


Charmwork

by versigny



Series: Annual Christmas Drabbles!!! [11]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, F/M, Magic, Mistletoe, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 18:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13254237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versigny/pseuds/versigny
Summary: Someone as pretty as him could never be cold - but maybe it's just his magick.





	Charmwork

**Author's Note:**

> REQUEST: "seokmin + mistletoe"

You had been walking with Dokyeom for a while now.

“Do you want to sit?” he asks, breath swirling into pretty cloud of mist in the cold air of the night. He stood under a lamplight, gloved hands pressed tight into his pockets with a smile wide on his lips – naturally, someone as pretty as him could never be cold.

You wondered if he used his magic to deal with it.

“I guess,” you sighed, staring down at the sidewalk.

You were trying desperately not to be in a bad mood tonight. After all this time, you’d finally gotten the finicky magician to spend some time with you, to not go out and do cagey shit that might get him killed all for the sake of a cheap thrill – but nevermind that now, you had almost certainly ruined things, because it was the holidays and you were a sourpuss and tired, so very tired of being alone–

“What’s eating you, princess?” he asks, and it’s surprisingly gentle, only a friendly tease. He guides you to a bench and sits directly beside you, snug at your side, insulating you from the chill just a bit.

You bury your face petulantly into your scarf.

“I’m just… lonely,” you sigh, knowing how fucking dumb it sounds and squeeze your eyes shut. “And it’s not you, it’s not… it’s not right now! I’m just really stupid. I’m thinking about how I’m going to be lonely after this. And other things. Like next year. I’ll probably be lonely next year, too. And the year after. B-because I’m a prickly hedgehog with a terrible personality and nobody will ever w-want to kiss me under the mistletoe and never–”

“Hey.”

The interjection makes you pause, and you glance up at Seokmin with trembling, wide-eyes like you’re two years old and not two decades older.

He’s pretty from this angle, too, with his mouth in an easy line and eyes dark and glinting. Promising. Secretive.

Your heart sighs this time instead of your lips.

The coy companion looks up, brows raised expectantly, and you follow his gaze and pointed finger. It takes a moment of squinting at the light, but you see, suspended in the air like a parlor trick, a plentiful sprig of mistletoe with a red ribbon tied around the stem. There’s nothing holding it up at all – it’s just a tiny dapple of green against the icy black sky – and even after all the magic he’s ever shown you, this one goes straight to your insides and settles in your chest.

You stare at it for a long minute, speechless, and your eyes prickle at the corners. You swallow it all down before you decide to look at him.

He’s smiling brightly, no surprise – and his head tilts, taunting you; _well? What do you think?_

“D-Dokyeom, I…” you stammer, heat flooding your cheeks with a bite against the frigid air, and his grin widens only wickedly.

“Me, you? Yes? What is it? Can it wait?”

Evidently it can, because his gloves are gone without him ever taking them off, and hot hands curl sweetly around your cheeks to cup your face as he draws in and plants his lips against yours. Something bubbles between you and him, and you gasp at the contact – his touch is molten hot and devastatingly good, and his mouth curves against yours and adds seductive pressure, warming you up from the inside out like hot chocolate and marshmallows. You’re halfway to crawling onto his lap and never not kissing him again when he draws back, smacking his lips softly and looking far too pleased with himself.

“Much better, I think,” he whispers. You’ve never swooned in your life before, but this might be what it feels like.

Gloves donned again, his hand wraps firmly around yours, and he gives you more of his weight on the bench. You can’t think straight yet, still stunned from everything that’s transpired so quickly, but amidst your rampaging heartbeat you peek up to see the mistletoe gone, and realize in a muted, giddy daze that minutes later you feel just as warm.

Almost like he’d put a spell on you.


End file.
